


Heart of the One

by Nyessa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyessa/pseuds/Nyessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the events of “Mark of the Assassin,” a job gone wrong gives Imogen Hawke and Fenris reason to consider the direction of their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of the One

"Without risk, there is no reward." And today, that included smelling like a dead wyvern, which Hawke was beginning to think was a little too much risk for the reward she expected, this “Heart of the Many” that their new friend had asked them to help her retrieve.

She did not look over her shoulder at Fenris as they continued back down the path to Chateau Haine with Varric and Tallis, the red-headed elf who had started all this. Fenris knew better than anyone that her motives weren't as mercenary as she sometimes made them out to be. She took her role as Champion seriously, even as she thought the title was ridiculous. But this job...this one was about the money, and she couldn't deny it.

"Perhaps." Fenris did not sound convinced. "One day you may simply end up being rewarded with a blade in the back."

He was wearing his scolding voice, the one he usually reserved for whenever she was being a bit too friendly with Anders. Sometimes he took her sympathy for the mage as more than just friendly concern and shared politics, and a few years earlier, he might have been right. Now, she wasn't sure how much of his disapproval was jealousy and how much was the worry they both held that Anders—Justice—would eventually turn on her.

She risked a glance at Tallis and shrugged. Jealousy? Maybe, though Fenris never seemed to mind her equally outrageous flirting with Varric or Aveline. But suspicion of betrayal? That possibility was something to think about.

She tossed a grin over her shoulder and tried to keep her voice glib when she said, "Not your blade, however."

"Not my blade, no." He sounded as if he had expected her to say something else.

"Damn, I wish the Rivaini hadn't run off like that," Varric muttered just loudly enough for all of them to hear it. "She'd know the perfect way to turn that into innuendo. Something like, 'I bet Hawke wouldn't mind Fenris's blade in her back,' or 'I wouldn't mind his blade in my back.' Hmm, I should write that down."

Fenris groaned, and Hawke resisted the temptation to waggle her eyebrows suggestively. She suspected this wasn't an occasion when he would appreciate the way her sense of humor so often aligned with Varric's. It would be one thing back at the Hanged Man over ale and a game of Wicked Grace, where he would glower to hide a smile, but different with a relative stranger present.

"One day, dwarf," Fenris said in a warning tone, "I'm going to make some comment about Bianca and...and bolts..."

"Nice try, but you just don't have my finely honed literary skills." Varric shook his head in mock despair. "Besides, you're too broody to pull off innuendo."

Hawke had to disagree on that point, but she wasn't about to offer up any examples as evidence.

Tallis laughed. "So, Isabela. She's that pirate, right? The one who stole the Tome of Koslun?" She shook her head, the smile replaced with a strange, thoughtful look. "I dearly wish she were still in Kirkwall, so I could have met her in person."

"A lot of us wish she had stayed." That was Hawke's one regret about how she had handled the Qunari situation. Other things had gone wrong, things that had been out of her control, but if only she had done more to earn Isabela's trust...

"It's a shame, all right," Varric said. "You and Rivaini would have gotten along famously, I think."

"Hm."

They stopped at the edge of a small lake to scrub off the worst of the stink before returning to the chateau. A proper bath would be in order to prepare for the "celebrations" of the evening, but there was only so much that modesty allowed before then.

"Are you married, Hawke?" Tallis asked suddenly in a too-innocent tone.

Hawke stopped splashing water in her face as a variety of responses flew through her head. Give a direct answer? Flirt, which she suspected was what Tallis was looking for? She felt Fenris go still on her other side and settled for a simple, "Why?"

"Just...wondering if there's a husband behind the throne."

Before she had a chance to even think about her answer, she heard Fenris's low rumble, close to her ear:

"A fine question."

At the sound of his voice, her heart stopped, or for a moment she thought it did before it went racing away again. At that moment, she wished to be somewhere far away, back home in Kirkwall, at the estate. Or at Fenris's mansion. Or anywhere with blankets and a locked door and him all to herself. Instead, she was stuck on a mountain in Orlais, stinking to high heaven, with an audience that was about to grow to the size of a garden party filled with people like the Comtesse de Launcet.

Hawke coughed. "Let's keep moving." But as she stood, she let the back of her hand brush against his arm. That would be enough to speak for her: later.

As they made their way back up the path, she tried not to look at either Fenris or Tallis. But she did catch a glimpse of Varric out of the corner of her eye; now that his hands were (relatively) clean, he had his notebook out and was jotting down notes all the way back.

* * *

 

"Hawke. Hawke!"

She blinked as the ceiling came into semi-focus. No, not the ceiling. The cave roof. It was hours later, and they were in the caves beneath Chateau Haine, she remembered. Why was it so hard to remember? Her head was swimming, and there was something wrong with her arm. She tasted blood.

Fenris appeared above her. Or she thought it was Fenris. He was a little fuzzy. She tried to smile at him, but he didn't smile back.

"Drink this," he insisted, tipping a foul-tasting liquid into her mouth.

She gagged and tried to choke it down. It was horrible, but it was from Fenris, so it had to be all right. Her vision started to come into focus.

"Remind me again why we didn't bring Blondie along?" Varric's voice said. He couldn't quite pull off the casual tone he was going for, which worried Hawke.

"Because he doesn't know how to make polite conversation," she mumbled.

"And so you brought the broody elf instead?"

"At least he knows better than to try it."

"Oh, good. Sounds like you're feeling better."

Fenris growled but said nothing as he helped Hawke to her feet. She stumbled a little before she regained her balance. Was the ground moving beneath her, or was that just the spinning in her head? She allowed Fenris to wrap her injured arm close to her body; one dagger would have to suffice if they ran into trouble.

"So we're out of injury kits and running real low on potions." Varric did not sound pleased. "Health potions, that is—we have an excess of lyrium."

Hawke nodded. "Give them to Fenris."

"He's got enough lyrium as it is."

"You know what I—"

"No." Fenris's grip tightened on her uninjured arm. "You should have them."

"Fenris..." He just glared at her, but she kept going. "If we get into another fight, you're like a big sitting target on the field. A big, sitting, glowing target. You'll need these in case you get swarmed. But Varric and I can keep moving, avoid getting hit."

"Tallis, too," Varric added.

She swiveled her head too quickly and had to lean on Fenris to keep from falling, which she was sure did not help support her case. But there was Tallis, wiping blood from one of her throwing knives, the Chasind lying prone at her feet.

The elf nodded to Hawke as she resheathed the blade. "Much as I hate to admit it, you're right. The potions should go to Fenris."

"I thought you'd left," Hawke accused her.

"Nonsense." Tallis grinned. "I found a way around. I said I'd get you out of here, and I meant it."

She held up her hand to display a key dangling from one finger.

"Let's get moving." Hawke pulled away from Fenris, determined to walk on her own, but he stuck close to her side.

They came almost immediately to another fork in the tunnel.

"This is all looking very familiar," Varric said. "Ghasts again, or will it be more surly Chasinds?"

"Tallis?"

The thief shook her head. "I didn't come this far. There was a crevice in the wall back there, which is how I got around."

"All right, we'll have to scout out both our options." She considered the two paths. "Tallis, take the right passage. I'll go left."

"No."

Fenris stared Hawke in the eye, and she glared right back.

"I am perfectly capable of sneaking down a tunnel, Fenris." She tried to cross her arms before remembering that she couldn't, and settled for putting her free hand on her hip.

Tallis, who had stopped dead in her tracks when Fenris spoke, waved and resumed walking. "You work this out, and I'll be back in a minute."

"Hawke, come on." Varric spread his arms. "I'll do the scouting today. Just sit back and relax."

He waited for her answer, and finally she rolled her eyes, which made her a little dizzy. "Fine, go."

When he was gone, Hawke leaned against the cave wall. "I am a little tired," she admitted.

Fenris was silent for a moment. Then he stepped in front of her and took her face in his hands. She instantly, instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist to pull him closer. But instead of the kiss she expected, he touched his forehead to hers and sighed.

"You frightened me, Imogen."

She went still. Hawke had seen Fenris frightened on only a handful of occasions, and every time had been tied closely to his past as a slave. She replayed as much of the last several hours as she could remember, searching for what she could have said or done to trigger bad memories.

"Me?" She couldn't think of anything, so she steeled herself for his answer.

"When that Chasind knocked you down, and was looming over you. And earlier, before we found you, there was a moment when I..." He faltered.

All the time they had fought side by side, she had never once considered that he might fear for her safety. After all, he had been the one to suggest her duel with the Arishok, and she had seen no sign that he held less than perfect faith in her ability to survive that encounter. The Chasind had been a far less daunting opponent; he had only caught her off guard in a moment of distraction.

Fenris closed his eyes. "Don't do that again," he pleaded.

"You were right, earlier." She tried to keep her voice steady, confident, soothing, but it was difficult to maintain. "I should be more selective about the jobs I take, more cautious about what I agree to. But Fenris..." His eyes shot open, and almost she couldn't continue. "Fenris, there are people who need me, people I have a responsibility to protect. I can't promise you that I'll never put myself in harm's way to do so."

"Then make me another promise," he said roughly. He kissed her, and—

"—Hawke's hand slid up the elf's back and tangled in his gleaming white hair as he—"

Suddenly Fenris was standing several feet away, as if he had never touched her.

“The broody elf leapt away,” Varric continued unabashedly, “startled by the interruption of their secret tryst.”

"Varric!" Hawke sputtered, turning on the dwarf, who stood grinning with his notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other.

"What?" He flashed his most charming smile, and she wondered just how long he had been standing there, listening in. "Don't mind me. I'm just recording events for posterity."

"One of these days..." she threatened. "Gah. Did you find anything, or have you just been eavesdropping this whole time?"

"Not the whole time...besides, this place doesn't even have eaves." Before she could address this logic, he hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "That way's clear, and I think I found the stash belonging to whatever bastard is profiting off my book."

Hawke continued to frown at him as he touched the unfamiliar amulet now hanging around his neck. Then she sighed. "Consider it royalties due, I suppose. Though it seems you've gathered plenty of material for a new book by now."

"I think we're almost out of here." Tallis appeared from the other passage. "I spotted Varric on the other side, so I guess both ways lead to the same place. And I could smell fresh air. What's wrong with him?"

She was looking at Fenris. He had his back to the others, head down, one hand against the cave wall opposite Hawke. He shook his head slowly and straightened.

"Nothing. Let's go."

* * *

 

Two more wyverns and a handful of Orlesian nobles later, and they were on their way home. Tallis had gone her own way once she had what she came for, politely refusing to join them in Kirkwall. Fenris's glaring perhaps had something to do with it.

Varric was the least touched by the stench of wyvern blood, again—the advantage of being a ranged fighter—so he took care of hiring a carriage and driver to get them back to the Free Marches. They piled into the back, and he immediately fell asleep in the seat across from Fenris and Hawke, one arm cradling Bianca and the other hand curled protectively over the pocket that held his notebook.

In spite of her exhaustion, sleep did not find Hawke easily. She rested her head on Fenris's shoulder and stared at the reward she had risked so much for. The Heart of the Many—as Tallis had named it—sat in her lap, red and gleaming and big as her fist.

"What am I going to do with this?" she asked her lover quietly, to avoid waking their friend.

"Sell it and divide the profits," Fenris answered after a moment's thought. "You lack the means to secure it from burglars, and you are not vain enough to wear it."

That was the truth, and his suggestion was the practical path. But she took hold of his hand, held it palm up, and placed the jewel in it.

"Hawke?"

"I'm putting my heart in your hands." She tilted her face up to look at him. "Cheesy, I know."

He glanced from her to the prize and back. "What of Varric?"

She looked across at the sleeping dwarf. His hand twitched over his notebook, and she gave a little half-grin. Let him feign sleep and snoop all he wanted; she didn't mind.

"I'll pay his share out of pocket," she said a little louder.

Fenris still did not close his fingers around the jewel. "And...what if I cannot protect this heart of yours, Imogen? What if someone steals it away from me?"

"What if someone does?" She shrugged. "That's just a trinket. I've already given you the heart that matters, I promise you."

He set the jewel gingerly on his knee and took her hand.

"Would you..." He paused and lifted his eyes from hers, turning to stare out the window at the passing trees. "Would you consider making that promise public?"

She didn't hesitate. "I would."

"Would you have the world know that you've attached yourself to a former slave, an elf?"

"You know that doesn't bother me."

"Would you have your promise..." He took a deep breath. "...sung in the Chantry?"

"Fenris, look at me." She pulled his hand closer and held it over her heart. "I'm telling you, my answer is yes. I would, and I will."

He kissed her, and this time there were no interruptions.

* * *

 

They parted with Varric in the Market.

"So, about my share..." he said, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, about that." Hawke glanced at Fenris, who had tucked the jewel into one of his pouches. "Give me a day, and I—"

"Keep it." Varric grinned. "Consider it an early wedding gift."

"I suppose I can rely on you to send out all the announcements?"

He bowed with a flourish. "Count on it, serah."

Hawke and Fenris walked back towards Hightown together, side by side, but not touching. More than a few people stared as they passed, attention pulled either by the sight of blood-stained armor, the stench of wyvern, or both.

"See, Fenris?" Hawke tossed her head. "They all think we make a lovely couple."

He grunted. The consummate bodyguard, he had fallen one step behind her to glare at the passersby. But she took his hand, and pulled him closer, and did not let go even when the stares intensified.

"My place," she said in a lower voice, "or yours?"

"Yours is closer..." He squeezed her hand. "As well as more conspicuous."

She smiled at him. "Perfect."


End file.
